The great Joan Rivers, who has undergone countless facial procedures, should not have gambled yet again with her good health for no good reason. There is no such thing as minor surgery, as far as I’m concerned. If it’s meant to fix a “minor” matter, then surgery doesn’t need to happen. Living trumps looking good.

The 81-year-old was having surgery on her vocal cords at a clinic when she suddenly stopped breathing during a procedure. … She remained in a serious condition in a New York City hospital on Friday, one day after going into cardiac arrest at a doctor’s office during a routine procedure. (MailOnline)

Already in her 80s, the octogenarian is best-known nowadays for the sartorial send-up “Fashion Police.” The Rivers repartee is so ribald—it’s fair to say she’s the only woman who can get manly men to watch a show about fashion. While her humor has become a tad tame for me—Rivers once even disgorged, albeit with difficulty, praise for the loathsome Lena Dunham of “Girls” fame—she, nevertheless, stands out as the only public persona who flatly refuses to apologize for her signature wit.

Examples: Joan has compared the guest room she occupies at her daughter’s abode to the basement in which the “Cleveland kidnapping victims, Gina DeJesus, Michelle Knight and Amanda Berry, were bound, raped and tortured for years before their escape. ‘Those women in the basement in Cleveland had more room,’ quipped Rivers.

Describing one awful outfit on “Fashion Police,” Rivers ventured that “on the scale of really bad ideas, it falls between marrying Charlie Sheen and using Oscar Pistorius’s bathroom.”

When Madonna accused Lady Gaga of stealing her “music,” Joan wanted to know how you could steal a rash.

And, Ms. Rivers walked in on a football party thrown for her grandson and his rowdy small friends by daughter Melissa. Looking on with disdain at the grubby little boys, Rivers blurted out: “I don’t know how Jerry Sandusky managed to do it.”